


Gay (and Dead) in King's Cross

by persepolis130



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crack, Everyone Is Gay, Harry Potter is Not a Horcrux, M/M, Matchmaker Dumbledore, POV Third Person, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 21:31:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11067540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persepolis130/pseuds/persepolis130
Summary: Harry and Dumbledore discuss gayness in King's Cross (aka: The Gaying of Deathly Hallows Chapter 35)





	Gay (and Dead) in King's Cross

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this fic is almost ten years old! Some of the references are now sadly out of date (Equus, anyone?), but it still makes me laugh. This fic is crack and is not meant to be taken seriously in any way, shape, or form; no offense is intended, and I hope none will be taken. This fic was originally posted on LiveJournal in 2007. Enjoy!

Harry was lying on something that, in lying on it, he discovered to be a floor, and he opened eyes that, in opening them, he discovered to be his. He got up off the floor to find himself alone in a very strange place filled with fog, but he wasn't afraid. He was, however, quite naked. 

He thought he heard a wolf whistle. 

Blinking around through the fog that seemed to be coalescing into the shape of a room before his very eyes, Harry tried to figure out where he was and who, or what, was there with him. From across the strange open space, he heard a noise and turned toward it.

There was something there with him, not human but strangely familiar. It was crouched under a chair, seemingly stuck there, making strange moaning and gasping sounds. Curious, Harry moved toward it, but when he got close, he found that as much as he wanted to, he could not bring himself to touch it. He was afraid of it.

"You cannot help," said a voice. 

Harry turned to see Dumbledore beside him, peering down at the groaning, flailing thing with a keen interest. He was just as Harry remembered him, with a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his step. Which was odd, the springy step, since he was just standing there, but Harry had a more important question: 

"Aren't you dead?" 

Dumbledore smiled. "When you get to be as old as I am, what with the arthritis and the ear hair and the gout, you sometimes forget. Though that may just be the Alzheimer's talking..."

The thing under the chair made a noise again, and Harry shivered. "What is that thing?" he asked. 

"Oh that?" Dumbledore asked. "That's my gay." 

Harry blinked. "Your gay?" 

"Oh yes," Dumbledore replied. "It rather enjoys hiding under chairs in the hopes of catching a glimpse of nubile young arse. Such good times with it under the Quidditch stands… would you care for a seat?" 

Harry's jaw dropped. Realizing he was still naked, he tried in vain to cover his nubile young arse. After all, this wasn't Equus. 

"Harry," said Dumbledore suddenly, opening his arms wide, "you wonderful boy. You brave, brave man. You sexy beast." 

Harry gaped for a moment but managed to pull himself together. After all, he had Voldemort to defeat here, people! "Professor, what's going on? I… Voldemort..." 

"Ah yes," Dumbledore said. "You see, when Voldemort attempted to kill you that night so many years ago, that scar was not the only thing he left you with. He unknowingly made you into a Whore-crux."

Harry blinked, trying to process the ramifications but unused to actually thinking, as that was what he kept Hermione around for. "I don't understand. I have a piece of Voldemort's soul in my scar?" 

"Oh, not at all. It seems Voldemort had split his soul so many times, there was simply none of it left, being that it wasn't a terribly big soul in the first place. Quite small, I assure you. He showed me once back when he was in school. Very unimpressive." Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "What you have in your forehead is his libido." 

Harry's head reeled. "His libido?" 

"Oh yes. Haven't you ever had the sense that what you were feeling was all wrong, and your true feelings were caged inside of you, like a monster in your chest trying to escape?" Dumbledore asked, raising his eyebrow appraisingly. 

Harry gasped. "Yes! Every time I look at Ginny! Wait, what are you trying to tell me, Professor? Do you know that that chest-monster is?" 

Dumbledore smiled serenely and placed his hand upon Harry's shoulder. "Harry, that monster is your gay." 

Harry nearly fell over in shock. "Does this mean JKR was wrong about the Ginny and me being soulmates? That we're not going to get married and have half a dozen obnoxiously-named, snot-nosed Gryffindor children?" 

"I am afraid so, Harry," Dumbledore told him, "and you may want to seriously consider getting in a bit more broom-riding time with Draco Malfoy. Ah, blonds..." 

"I can't believe this!" Harry exclaimed. "Didn't Voldemort notice he'd lost his libido? Didn't _Bellatrix_ notice?!" 

"Well, I do think she had her suspicions when he started playing around with Lucius Malfoy's wand. You see, ever since he took your blood into his own body, he's had an unhealthy obsession with how other men's wands work. Oh, but don't blame poor deluded Bellatrix! Love can make even the best of us blind... oh so very blind..." 

At that, Dumbledore's gay under the chair began flapping around, struggling to break free. Harry cast it a worried look. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do about that, sir?" 

Dumbledore sighed. "Alas, brunets just don't do it for me, Harry. Not even with the Res-Erection Stone..." 

Harry blinked. "The... the what?"

Suddenly Dumbledore burst into tears. "I'm so sorry, Harry! It's all my fault I wasn't there to guide you through these final steps as any respectable quasi-incestuous father figure should!" 

"Professor, it's not your fault," Harry told him, afraid he might go into cardiac arrest. Could dead men have heart attacks? 

Dumbledore shook his head, sniffling loudly. "Oh, but it is! When I found the Stone in the ruins of the Gaunt house, I lost my head, quite forgetting the ring was sure to carry a curse. But you must understand that without the Res-Erection Stone, all was lost! Over the years, my monthly conjugal visits to Nurmengard had become so very disappointing for us both, and it stung my pride horribly! After all, I was the man in possession of the most powerful, strongest, most manly wand ever created!" 

Harry rubbed his sobbing Professor's back, and the thing under the chair quieted, seemingly soothed. "It's alright, sir, I understand, and I don't blame you. I've seen pictures, and Grindelwald was one sexy bastard. I'd've done him myself, even with my really wussy wand!" 

Dumbledore smiled tearfully. "But now, you see, the burden has fallen upon you. When Draco disarmed me-- even though I was really hoping it would be Professor Snape who would do it, I've always fancied being disarmed by a man with snark-- my glorious wand fell into his (very inexperienced yet unusually skilled) hands. But now that you have disarmed Mr Malfoy, my wand belongs to you."

Harry's mouth fell open. "You mean the wand Voldemort thinks is his has actually been mine all this time? The Dark Lord's been diddling around with _my wand?!_ " 

"I can understand if you feel violated," Dumbledore said, "but just remember how incredibly hot the man used to be. Scorching, Harry! I believe he once actually caught my beard on fire." 

Harry's head was spinning, he had to sit down. Unfortunately, the closest seat was right on top of Dumbledore's gay, and the creature fell back into its previous grunting and moaning, which was all the more disturbing now that Harry knew what the thing was. 

If only Dumbledore's gay were more flamboyant, it wouldn't have to hide under chairs or in closets and things. It was sad, really. 

"Oh. Oh my God," Harry said, coming to a sudden realization. "I need to get laid!" 

Dumbledore chuckled. "That's the spirit, my boy!" 

"No," Harry said, feeling strangely panicky, "you don't understand! My gay wants to run free like a gazelle across the African tundra, prancing and frolicking in the sweet spring breezes!" 

When he looked up, a sweet, nostalgic look came across Dumbledore's face. "Harry, if you defeat Voldemort, all the tundra in the world will be yours." 

Dumbledore's gay made an excited noise, but Harry ignored it. "What about Malfoy? Will _he_ be in my tundra? Because-- because I'm really sick of having to track him day and night just to catch a glimpse of him wanking in the boys bathroom!" 

Oh, he couldn't have just said that! He didn't want Draco-- just the thought of his ferret-y little face made Harry want to scream. Or break things. Or strip naked and do a little booty dance, except he was already naked, and with his head hanging down in his lap like this, it became painfully obvious that he really did want Draco after all. 

_Really_ painfully. 

After all, who else was there to lust over? Ron? Nobody ships that anymore! 

"So what happens if I don't go back and defeat Voldemort?" Harry asked, attempting to strategically cross his legs and hide his embarrassment. It didn't work as well as he'd hoped. "Where will I go?" 

Dumbledore frowned. "Well, where are you now?"

Harry blinked and looked around at the great glass dome above them. "It looks like King's Cross station," he said.

Dumbledore chuckled immoderately. "Goodness, really? My boy, that is messed up!"

"But what will happen if I don't…"

"If you don't go back," Dumbledore told him with a quick peek over the top of his glasses into Harry's lap, "then I'd say we're all right fucked." 

Harry nodded, knowing what he had to do. "I'll do it then. I'll destroy Voldemort and shag Malfoy to within an inch of his pointy life! I'll do it! To make the world safe for everyone's gay! All your gay are belong to us!" he shouted, leaping out of his chair. "We're in ur Rowling, gayin ur books!" 

Dumbledore nodded, pride gleaming in his queer blue eyes, and his gay let loose a giddy squeal. "Well said, Harry Potter. Well said."

Harry nodded and steeled himself for what came next, the fight for his life, and the lives and dreams of everyone he loved. But before he could leave, he had one last question: 

"Professor, all of this gay... is it really canon? Or has it all only been happening inside Rowling's head?"

Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice was clear even though the fog was descending again, obscuring him as Harry left. "Of course it is only happening inside Rowling's head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not canon?"


End file.
